This week I'm climbing on my soapbox to remind us all to be thankful for our dedicated Servicepeople, active, veteran, and otherwise. Those who we've lost, those who aren't found, those who have come home safe, and those who are alive but struggle with new challenges.
Forget your politics. Fact is, these men and women put their noses on the line for all of us, signing away their souls to the mercy of powerful, richly suited men in distant conference rooms. They do it so the rest of us can continue to take our lives for all we can, even when we choose to use our lives speak against those very men and women that serve to protect the freedom that allows us that speech.
Now forgive me, I must admit I'm a little partial to our fellow Americans in uniform.
You see, my husband wasn't here for 9-11. Having joined the Navy at 17 (yes. 17), he'd already been enlisted 3 years when that mess happened. He was on a ship in Japan. As the rest of us watched the horror unfold on our local TV news, his ship was mobilized to join a fleet of others in a race to the Gulf. If my counting the stars on his expeditionary medals is correct, he's been back at least four times since. It could have been one less, but my man did something extraordinary while we were stationed with the Seabees in sunny socal.
See, the Seabees don't float around on ships like the rest of the Navy. They trade in their working whites and Dixie caps for camo, boots, and body armor, doing construction and civil work in countries all over the world. In our case, my husband
could have gone to Spain.
He could have gone to Spain, but he *volunteered* to go back to Iraq. Not on a ship, remember. But on the sand in camo, boots, and body armor.
As a gunner in a convoy truck.
Sometimes he was a driver.
One time he and his friends even got to risk their lives moving sand across the desert.
...True story.
But as scared as I was. As much as longed for more of him than poorly connected, wee hour phone calls. Something more than overseas echoes speckled with the tapped sound of surveillance clicking in and out. Oh, and that one time I heard the distinct attack of machine guns in the background and he reassured, "don't worry babe, it's only outgoing fire." Yeah. That one was really bad.
As much as I wished he hadn't
volunteered, I am thankful that he did and that he came home safe. Changed. But alive to work through it together. And, I am thankful for my brother-in-law the super genius Air Force somekinda-Sergeant. I am thankful for our two best friends, both active Army. I am thankful for evey other friend of mine who still serves or has served.
Not just today, but every day, I am thankful for my husband and every other person who has put on a uniform in service to our Country. I appreciate their strength, bravery, and dedication to ALL of us. No matter what their job description or branch of service. God knows I could never do it myself. Hell, I'd guess many of you wouldn't, either. So showing my support and thanks, I think, are the least I can do.
